


Demon of Rukongia

by OmniaVanitus



Category: Bleach
Genre: Action/Adventure, Demonic Possession, F/M, M/M, Multi, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2013-11-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 01:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniaVanitus/pseuds/OmniaVanitus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her past haunts her and he's in danger, but when the truth comes to light, will she be able to protect him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story and the original characters.

* * *

They stood at the edge of the forest already sensing the dark, twisted reiatsu within. The white haired man coughed heavily into his hand, earning a concerned glance from his companion.

“Are you up for this,” Shunsui asked as he lowered the straw hat over his eyes.

“I’ve had better days,” Jūshirō admitted, “but we’ve put this off for long enough. I will endure.” Shunsui nodded and they both stepped forward into the woods, making their way towards the entity housed within.

They noticed the stench of death and decay long before they ever saw the corpses, and the deeper they went, the stronger the smell became. Bodies littered the ground haphazardly in varying states of decay and many, they noted, looked to have been cut down while trying to flee their attacker.

Overwhelmed by the stench, Ukitake suddenly doubled over coughing blood into the sleeve of his captain’s haori. He managed to recover after a moment, aided by the soothing circles his friend was rubbing into his back, but when he noticed the unmistakable bloody remains of a small child, the hacking coughs started again and left his throat raw.

“Maybe you should leave this to me,” Kyōraku said as the sickly wet coughs died down. “This is my fight after all.”

“Shunsui,” Ukitake began, “you don’t have to do this alone. I want to be there for you.”

“You are, old friend, but,” he hesitated, “I don’t want you to witness this.”

The white haired man sighed heavily, but eventually nodded. “Alright.”

Shunsui squeezed his friend’s shoulder as he looked off into the woods and when he met his friend’s eyes again, Jūshirō had already settled himself at the base of a tree. With a final nod to each other, Shunsui began to make his way further into the forest, pausing only briefly to leave behind the flowery pink kimono he wore draped over his own captain’s haori.

The reiatsu became stronger as he continued on deeper into the woods, and the number of bodies littering the ground increased, so much so that they were piled up on top of one another. And when he reached the center of the forest, he could make out the uniforms of the fallen Onmitsukidō. The stealth force.

He knew the reports, had heard them from Suì-Fēng’s own mouth and she was not happy. Not just for losing some of her own men, but because he had gone over her head to Yama-jii, practically pleading with the old man to let him handled this on his own, this mad woman now referred to as the Demon of the Rukon District.

For years now, this woman had dominated the forest, killing indiscriminately any who dared to venture in. Men, women, children, animals and even hollows fell victim to her blades. She had become a legend, a myth to much of the Eastern Rukongai, but in Inuzamurai, the district where this bloodstained forest was located, she was feared.

Men would tell stories of how they faced the demon and lived, though such stories were often lies. Women would tell their children that she’d come for them in the night if they didn’t behave, even though by all accounts she’d never once left the forest in search of prey. And children would sing rhymes about her while they played, even making up games to test their bravery. Who could stand with their backs to the forest the longest, who could venture furthest... Is that what happened to that child, was she a victim of child’s play?

Crazed laughter drew his attention to the tree tops where he finally spotted her.

Her nude body was covered in all manner of grime and dried blood from numerous self-inflicted wounds. Her brown hair was matted and crusted with mud and in each hand she held a curved ax like weapon. Her dark unfocused eyes settled on him.

“I’ve been waiting,” she called down to him. “It’s been so long since someone new came to play with me.”

“You’re making me break one of my own rules,” he said, watching her as she dragged one of her blades across the skin of her belly casually making blood blossom and bead on the cut. “I don’t like to fight with women.”

“My apologies.”

Dark crimson reiatsu seeped from her blades and enveloped her form as she leaped at him then, twisting in the air as she brought her blades down on him, but he blocked her attack easily with the use of his long sword. Undeterred, she continued to attack, swinging her arms and slamming her blades down one after the other in rapid succession.

He deflected her attacks and angled his own zanpakutō towards her. He nearly missed her, but as their blades connected once again hers began to crack. Their fight continued on this way, with close calls and narrow misses, but she wasn’t strong enough to land a solid blow and he had never intended to inflict damage on her body, merely her zanpakutō.

The sharp edges of her blades were chipped and tiny fissures lined the blades, but the dark crimson reiatsu tendrils that had wrapped around her at the start of their battle held strong. And it was only when the blades finally shattered that the tendrils evaporated and the zanpakutō reverted back to its unassuming form and its wielder collapsed to ground.

He stepped forward tentatively, kicking the hilt of her weapon out of her hands before he knelt down beside her and pulled her into his arms. Drawing his thumb across her cheek gently, he looked up to see Jūshirō offer him the kimono he had left behind. With her shattered sword beside her, Shunsui wrapped his pink kimono around her small naked frame.

“What’s your name,” he asked quietly when her now clear bright grey eyes had fluttered open.

“Kaminari.”


	2. Twenty-Five Years Later

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story and the original characters.

* * *

**Twenty-Five Years Later**

It was early morning when Kaminari stepped to the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley below. She stood tall over the ridge as the wind blew through her rich wavy brown hair, long since freed from the mud it had once been encrusted in. The yukata she wore left an arm bare, providing a glimpse of her strength and revealing the butterfly shaped Hōmonka left behind on her chest courtesy of Suì-Fēng.

Now faded and worn, the ever present pink kimono lay draped over her shoulders, concealing the small bundle fast asleep on her back. Black hair peeked out from under the collar as the boy slept with his head pillowed on her shoulder. His arms were pushed through the sleeves and his small hands fisted in the threadbare material. Feeling him stir, she craned her neck and watched as his crystalline blue eyes slowly fluttered open.

“Are we there yet,” Ryuko mumbled through a yawn.

“Almost,” she said pointing to a village out in the distance. “It’s just over there.”

On the horizon she could see their destination, a small town in the Western Rukongai where the barefooted denizens were already bustling to prepare for the upcoming festival. They’d been traveling for days and now that the little town was in sight she could practically taste the sweet rice wine that would be flowing freely by night fall.

They continued on and had reached the edge of the valley when Kaminari stopped suddenly, her hand falling to the hilt of the zanpakutō strapped horizontally on her lower back. In a flash her weapon was drawn, deflecting several throwing stars just as they were surrounded by a group of men. Black cloth kept their faces hidden and though they wore clothing similar to that of the stealth force, the crest on their uniform was not that of the Onmitsukidō.

Ryuko jumped from Kaminari’s back and took his stance behind her, readying himself to fight as the masked men surrounding them pulled out their swords. One of the men lunged at him, swinging his weapon wide as he did, but Ryuko dodged the blow and used the man’s momentum to flip him over, sending him crashing to the ground as another man approached with his blade already leveled. The boy grabbed his wrist before he could attack and sent a hard kick to his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Sparks flew as Kaminari blocked her opponent’s sword with hers and countered with a move of her own. A moment later and he was sent sprawling to the ground with a gaping wound in his chest where two more of his comrades soon met the same fate. She rounded on the last one, their swords clashing as they fought.

He was breathing hard, but Ryuko had finally managed to knockout the two men he’d been fighting. Standing triumphantly over them, he watched on as Kaminari continued battling their last attacker, memorizing the way her muscles shifted with each swing of her blade. His eyes widened suddenly then, but more out of shock than pain.

Blocking and attacking each other in turn, the masked man threw another shuriken towards her, but she flash stepped out of the way easily and reappeared behind him where she plunged her zanpakutō deep into his back. As the last man fell to the ground dead, Kaminari looked back towards Ryuko just in time to see him collapse with the small four-pointed blade she had just dodged sticking out of his chest.

“Kami-” he gasped out when she rushed over to him, but she shushed him firmly as her hand reached for the protruding object, feeling an oily substance coating the edges that made the skin on her fingers tingle and burn.

Poison.

She pressed a hand to his wound to stem the blood flow while the other dug into a pouch she kept hidden in her yukata and pulled out a small red gem. She urged him to eat it and when he did the bruises and cuts he’d received during the fight began to heal, but the poisoned gash in his chest remained unaffected. There was little she could do, but gather him up into her arms and flash step them to the only place where she knew he could get help.

She arrived at the West Gate in a matter of moments and quickly flashed an entry permit. By the time she finally reached the Fourth Division the boy’s breathing had become shallow and his pulse thready. Several healers buzzed around her, carting the small boy off to surgery as she told them what had happened, even giving them the star so they could analyze the poison coating its dangerous edges.

Left alone in a waiting room, Kaminari sat distraughtly with her head in her hands until she felt a familiar arm wrap around her. Looking up she saw the Eighth Division Captain and she returned his embrace, letting herself be comforted as they waited together.

* * *

Hot water beat down on her skin, washing away the traces of blood she was only vaguely aware of, some of which had belonged to Ryuko.

They had waited nearly three hours before Captain Unohana herself came to them with an update on the boy’s condition. “He’s stable,” she had said. “We were able to close his wound and negate the effects of the poison.” He would live, and with only a small scar as a reminder. Kaminari had never been so relieved.

A shy, wide-eyed looking healer led Shunsui and her through the maze of corridors to Ryuko’s room where they were keeping him overnight. He was small for his age and lying sedated there on the large hospital bed made him look even smaller, but she was grateful to only see the single IV drip connected to his arm. They had stayed for awhile before Kyōraku led her out of the Fourth, pausing only long enough for her to drape the worn kimono over the sleeping boy’s form.

Through the streets of Seireitei and into the Thirteenth Division, she was greeted with a warm smile and an offer of a hot shower which she readily accepted. It had been awhile since she’d seen either of them and Ryuko could never wait to be spoiled with the chocolate and toys Jūshirō always seemed to have on hand for him.

When Kaminari emerged from the shower, she found the two captains drinking tea as they waited for her. Taking a seat next to them, she quietly took a sip from her own proffered cup.

“Has this happened before,” Shunsui finally asked, “you being attacked that is.”

“Bandits are common in the lower Rukongai.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he scolded.

Kaminari hesitated. “We’ve been attacked three times before at the shrine.”

“Do you know who they were, why they attacked you,” Jūshirō asked.

“No,” she answered shaking her head, “but they wore this.” She pulled out a piece of fabric she had torn from one of their uniforms during the fight baring the unknown crest.

“I’m not familiar with this insignia,” he said thoughtfully, passing the material to the other captain. “Maybe we can find out some information for you,” he offered.

“Thank you,” Kaminari said gratefully.

They let their conversation drift after that as they continued talking until eventually Lieutenant Ise came to retrieve her captain and Kaminari decided to return to the Fourth Division. She accepted Jūshirō’s offer to be escorted back, but as they were making their way through the Seireitei a baldheaded shinigami suddenly appeared before them, blocking their path.

“That’s as far you go, Demon of Rukongai!”


	3. Retribution

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story and the original characters.

* * *

A half empty bottle of sake lay discarded next to him as he reclined on the rooftop with his hand tucked lazily into his shihakusho.

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding while I’ve had to deal with those new recruits. I swear, you’re as bad as the captain.”

Ikkaku cracked an eye at the other man, watching as Yumichika carded a practiced hand through his dark hair before placing it on his hip. The perfect picture of a nagging wife. “How are the newbie’s anyway?”

“As pitiful and inept as usual,” the fifth seat said, taking in the empty sake bottles littering the gold terracotta shingles.

“You said that about the last group.”

“Was I wrong?” A noncommittal grunt answered him and he sighed exasperatedly. “Well, are you going to stay up here all day or are you going to come help me train those bumbling morons?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m up,” Ikkaku muttered, stretching out languidly before he rolled to his feet.

They began making their way back to their division and had almost reached the gates when they suddenly spied the sickly, white haired captain walking alongside a lean brunette woman. But as they passed, a niggling feeling sprouted in the back of Ikkaku’s mind and it was another moment before comprehension finally dawned in his black eyes.

“That woman…”

Rage grew and swelled with his recognition and before he could even stop himself he was already flash stepping towards her.

* * *

_The heavy reiatsu bore down on them as they traveled through the forest and Ikkaku’s heart was already pounding at the thought of the impending fight. His companion, however, was less than enthusiastic._

_Bits of leaves and dirt clung to his hair stubbornly from when he had tripped and fallen over a tree root and he couldn’t stop the frustrated sigh that escaped him as he pulled out a stray twig. Yumichika’s face was scrunched up in disgust, not only at his own disheveled appearance, but at the stench of decay for which he willed himself to stop breathing. He trudged on nonetheless, dutifully following the bald man deeper into the woods, but when they made brief eye contact he was certain his glare promised pain. One way or another, Ikkaku was going to make this up to him._

_They found her standing atop a fallen tree with her back to them, her curved blades clutched in each hand. She made no move to attack them, but they knew better than to drop their guard. It was only when Ikkaku took a tentative step forward that she even acknowledged their presence at all and only with a half turn in their direction. The threat was clear though and Yumichika swallowed against the sudden wave of unease that swept through him._

_“I’ve come to fight you, Demon,” Ikkaku shouted to her. His scabbard and blade grasped firmly in his hands as he fell into his stance. And despite the sweat that dripped down his neck, his lips were twisted into an eager grin._

_She eyed him slowly, her gaze flickering only briefly to his lover before once again focusing on him. “You’ve come to die,” she corrected. And then, she was upon him._

_Their swords clashed and Ikkaku was pushed back with the force of it, but he quickly righted himself and braced for another onslaught. Nicks and cuts covered his torso despite having blocked many of her attacks, but he, however, had yet to land even a single blow of his own. Her movements were fast and unpredictable, but their fight continued on and with him on the defensive._

_She landed a heavy blow to his shoulder, cutting deeply into his flesh, and he collapsed to the ground with a pained howl. Ikkaku had expected her to deliver a finishing blow, but it never come as she had rounded on Yumichika instead. Yumichika who had stood by silently, watching their fight as he gnawed on his thumb and completely defenseless. She sliced into his forearm when he shielded himself instinctively, but her second blow was blocked by Ikkaku’s scabbard. He made to attack her, to finally cut her and draw blood, but hesitated when he felt two thin arms wrap around him from behind._

_Yumichika dragged him backwards with as much strength as he could muster, feeling the front of Ikkaku’s yukata dampen and stain with his blood. But even as Ikkaku struggled against him in a bid to continue fighting, he knew they had to get out. To stay was suicide._

_The edge of the forest was closer now and he continued to bodily drag the baldheaded man with him even as the mad woman dogged them with each step, driving them out with her brutal attacks, cruel laughter and crushing reiatsu._

_They collapsed on the ground when they finally breached the tree line, breathing hard and grateful when she didn’t follow after them. Yumichika gazed back into the trees with wide eyes, ignoring his bleeding arm and sweaty skin. The man beside him growled lowly though and before he knew it, he was pinned to the ground with a strong hand fisted in his yukata._

_“Don’t you **ever** interfere in one of my fights again,” Ikkaku yelled, even though he was just as relieved to be out of the forest as the other man. He shook his fist, still bunched in the man’s clothing. “Don’t ever.”_

_Yumichika stayed on the ground, watching as the bald man stalked off and feeling just as distraught at being yelled at by his lover as he was with facing the demon. Her taunting laughter drew his attention once more, just in time to see her receding form disappear into the forest._

* * *

They had heard rumors. Before either of them had become shinigami, before their first encounter with Kenpachi Zaraki, they had heard the rumors and the stories and had scoffed at them. But as they traveled from district to district in search of new and stronger opponents, they eventually found themselves in Inuzamurai. And when they emerged from the forest, battered and bruised, Ikkaku couldn’t help feeling slightly jaded.

He’d been denied.

Denied not only a proper fight, but the chance to die in battle and it was a long time before he could forgive Yumichika for that. It was why he had demanded his lover swear to him to never hinder him in his fights again and why he had demanded Zaraki deliver the killing blow. But his captain had surprised him, chastising him instead before walking away and leaving him kneeling in the dirt and staring after him in awe.

He’d been lucky.

Lucky to have survived both encounters with these two demons and he swore to himself then that he would become stronger and fight them both again. And now that he saw her, he’d be damned if he missed out on the opportunity.

Ikkaku skidded to a halt in front of them and shouted, “that’s as far you go, Demon of Rukongai!” His hands were already gripping his sword and scabbard as he eyed the woman and he caste a slight glance at the white haired man standing beside her. “I’m sorry Captain Ukitake, but I can’t let you pass. Not with her.”

“Explain yourself,” Jūshirō demanded as he placed himself between them.

“Do you know who that woman is? What she’s do-”

“I am well aware of her history,” the captain cut in. “Now stand down, Third Seat.”

“It’s alright Jūshirō,” she said, stepping around him. Kaminari hadn’t missed the use of her old name, had hoped never to hear again in fact, but she had long since decided that if any of her victims tried to seek retribution then she would give them the chance to take it. “If he has a problem with me, I want to hear it.”

“Don’t you remember me, Demon?”

“It’s a blur,” she admitted with a vague wave of her hand and it was true. Much of her time spent possessed by her own sword was a dark haze, and there were very few things she could recall at all. “Your bald head certainly seems familiar enough, but tell me, did I mark you?” He looked thoughtful for a moment before he finally jerked his shihakusho aside to reveal the long jagged scar she’d left behind on his shoulder. A souvenir from their first encounter. “Ah, now _that_ I remember. Our fight was cut short wasn’t it?”

“Our next one won’t be,” Ikkaku declared.

“So you’ve come to challenge me then, to seek revenge?”

“I’ve come to finish our fight.”

Kaminari nodded in understanding, her hand falling to the hilt of her zanpakutō. But just as they were about to attack Ukitake stepped in between them once more.

“Wait,” he shouted, raising his hands up to hold them at bay before adding sternly, “if you two insist on fighting then so be it, but it will not be here where passersby can be injured.”

“The Eleventh Division’s training grounds should suffice,” Yumichika offered. “It’s not very far from here.”

The fighters agreed and the group walked the short distance to the Eleventh with the third and fifth seat at the lead, but along the way the two would caste furtive glances back over their shoulder. Whether it was to make sure she was following or that she wouldn’t attack them when their backs were turned she wasn’t sure, but in the end it didn’t matter.

“You don’t have to fight him,” Jūshirō said quietly beside her as the division gates loomed ahead.

“Yes I do.” Ikkaku wasn’t the first to come seeking retribution, and Kaminari doubted he’d be the last. “You know I do.”

They had quickly commandeered one of the large sand covered training fields and it wasn’t long before a large crowd had gathered around them as those busy sparring stopped to watch. But the two fighters paid them no mind as they stepped into their stances, clutching their weapons in a firm grip.

“I almost forgot to ask,” Ikkaku said as he leveled his sword at her. “What’s your name?”

“Kaminari of Inuzamurai,” she answered.

“Well Demon Kaminari, I’m Eleventh Squad’s Third Seat, Ikkaku Madarame.”

They attacked then, meeting in a flurry of sparks as their swords clashed together before disappearing and reappearing in flashes of shunpo. His movements were a blur as he poked and jabbed with zanpakutō and sheath while she was slashing and blocking him in turn. They broke away eventually, pausing in their attacks long enough to survey the damage they had done to each other.

Both were breathing hard, and despite the cuts that littered his body, Ikkaku was certain his Cheshire grin couldn’t be any bigger. In their first encounter, he had struggled to land even a single hit, had failed even. But he could touch her now. The cut on her cheek was bleeding slowly and she was favoring her left side where he’d landed a solid blow with his scabbard, no doubt leaving behind cracked ribs in its wake.

If she was to be the measuring stick with which he gauged his improvement, then he would break her.

“You’re not quite like I remember,” he commented idly.

“Sanity has tempered me. You seem to have improved as well.”

“I didn’t have shikai the last time we met.”

“Then show me now,” she demanded.

“Extend, Hōzukimaru,” Ikkaku cried as he slammed hilt and sheath together, whirling the zanpakutō in his hands as it shifted before he leveled the sharp spearhead at her. “Your turn, Demon.”

Kaminari’s sword stretched and twisted with the muttered command, “bleed, Akenisou,” transforming into a long curved blade. Her hands grasped the arched handle on its spine and pulled, separating it into two axe like weapons.

“Now that brings back memories.” With weapons poised, they sped towards each other.

Ikkaku brought his spear down forcefully, but she dodged the attack and quickly countered with a swing of her own. She made to strike him again, but he was already twisting Hōzukimaru in his hands and slammed the pommel hard into her chest, knocking her back several paces before she finally skidded to a halt.

She took a step forward, ready to attack again, but stopped suddenly and frowned when she realized a strap on her sandal had broken.

“That’s a very unlucky omen,” Ikkaku warned, watching as she tested her footwear. “Maybe you should concede now.”

Kaminari eyed him carefully. “A thought occurs,” she said as she kicked her sandals off and shifted her feet into the coarse sand below. “If you really wanted to recreate our last encounter, then one of us should be naked.”

Ikkaku let out a bark of laughter. “I’d be willing to wait while you strip,” he offered, and the crowd of men surrounding them echoed him with their own taunts and jeering laughter.

Her mouth twisted into a impish grin. “No doubt, but in the interest of fairness, I do believe it’s your turn.”

“Maybe next time.” He leapt at her suddenly, swinging his zanpakutō in a wide arc.

The ground beneath her cratered and she had to use both of her blades to block his attack, but she saw her opening and took it. Knocking the spearhead away, she scrapped her curved axes along the shaft of his zanpakutō with deadly intent, but Ikkaku saw his own opening. Yelling the command “split apart”, the three part pole separated and struck home, imbedding deep into her shoulder and mirroring the gash she had given him on their first encounter.

Kaminari waivered slightly, but steadied herself quickly and threw one of her axes at him with lethal accuracy. He barely managed to dodge it, but acted quickly and took advantage of her loss. She ducked as Hōzukimaru separated again and she stretched out her arm, pointing the butt of her axe towards him and summoned its twin, extending her reach, but Ikkaku back flipped to avoid her aim on his throat.

Their reiatsu flooded around them as they rushed towards each other again with a final swing of their blades and when the dust had settled, those watching were surprised that either of them were still standing.

Blood was dripping from their wounds, falling and mingling with the tainted sand below as they panted against the other’s neck, their zanpakutōs still imbedded deep into their sides.

“You _have_ gotten stronger,” she whispered to him.

He pulled his blade from her and watched as she collapsed to the ground before he turned away. And then he was falling too. Black spots clouded his vision, but he could still make out the forms of his division mates as they hurried around him, shouting for the Fourth Division healers.

“Damn it,” he grunted, but his wide grin was still in place even as darkness claimed him.


	4. Hero Worship

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story and the original characters.

* * *

The gritty, medicinal tea made her grimace and it took several thick swallows against the bitter aftertaste just to keep it down, but Kaminari drank it obediently, per doctor’s orders.

She was sitting on the wooden walkway just outside her room, clad in a plain white yukata like so many of the other patients at the Fourth Division. Her cracked ribs had been mended easily enough with the liberal use of healing kidō, but her side was still tender to the touch. Her other injuries were healed though, and she predicted she’d be released soon.

The door to her room was slid open wide, letting in fresh air for the raven haired boy inside, dressed in a matching yukata. His hair was an untamed mess, but it was hardly a concern to him as he drew on a piece of paper one of the nurses had given him, only pausing in his artwork long enough to rub at tired blue eyes. Ryuko was still weak from the poison, but he was recovering quickly. No doubt he’d be released soon as well.

She blew a stream of cool air into her steaming cup just as she heard the approaching footfalls of a new visitor, and from the corner of her eye she could see it was a familiar baldheaded shinigami.

“How are you healing,” he asked.

“I’m well,” she answered, taking in his gleaming forehead and clean black uniform. “I take it they’ve discharged you?”

“Yeah, just now.” Ikkaku leaned against a wooden post, casually crossing his thick arms over his broad chest as he watched her sip the medicinal tea and smirking at the pinched expression that followed.

The trembling nurses at the Fourth were always pestering their patients to drink their disgusting tea, but when it came to the Eleventh Divisioners , it would often lead to crushed tea pots, broken cups and the liquid itself being splattered across clean walls. It was a running joke at the Eleventh and Ikkaku would gladly take the cheapest sake over it any day of the week.

“I don’t know why you bother drinking that crap,” he finally said, “I sure as hell don’t.”

“If it means I get out of here sooner, then I’ll drink as much as I need to,” she replied evenly.

He gave an indifferent shrug. “Well if you’re interested in drinking something _decent_ , then you’re welcome to come to my division tonight.”

“Oh, and what’s tonight?”

“A revelry.”

Kaminari gave a derisive laugh. “You’re inviting the Demon of Rukongai to a party,” she asked cynically. “How scandalous.”

“No,” he corrected, giving her his best scowl, “I’m inviting _you_.”

An unreadable expression flitted across her face, but it was gone in an instant. “So, what’s the occasion anyway?”

“We need a reason to get drunk?”

“I suppose not,” she conceded.

Ryuko emerged from their room then, the worn kimono wrapped around him tightly and trailing out behind him as he padded over to her and roughly situated himself against her side before bedding his head in her lap in an oddly possessive manner.

“We’ve been invited to a party,” she murmured to him with clear amusement in her voice as she combed her long fingers through his messy hair. “You up for it?”

He answered with a tired, noncommittal sound.

“There’ll be sake,” she tempted, “maybe even a few cute girls.” Her eyebrows rose in question.

“The women in my division rarely miss out on free sake,” Ikkaku admitted. “Rangiku will probably show up too.”

Ryuko nodded tiredly, mumbling his consent.

“Alright then,” Kaminari agreed and stood, gathering the small boy up in her arms, “but I think we could both do with a little nap before then.” Giving a farewell nod to the shinigami, she slid the door shut behind her.

* * *

The sun had set by the time the two finally arrived at the Eleventh and the sounds of rowdy merrymaking were already in the air.

Several drained sake bottles were strewn across the ground, lying empty and forgotten, while others lay in broken ruin next to barrack walls. Groups of men and women sat huddled together gambling away their money on liar’s dice and poker and it wasn’t surprising when a few drunken brawls erupted from out of nowhere. But most of the wild partygoers, however, contented themselves by drinking and laughing as they lounged around one of the many long low-sitting tables out in the courtyard.

It was here that Kaminari spotted the third and fifth seats, but when her eyes fell on two familiar captains, they motioned her over.

“I had a feeling you might be here, Shunsui,” she said sitting down next to them, “but do you always have to include Jūshirō in your delinquency?”

“First off,” he began as he handed her a sake filled cup, “I hardly consider a quiet evening with friends and alcohol an act of delinquency and secondly, yes. A good strategist _always_ has a willing scapegoat on hand.”

The white haired captain frowned deeply in disapproval as Kaminari shook her head and leaned into him asking, “why are you still friends with him?”

“He steals my medicine,” Jūshirō admitted in mock irritation. “I have to be nice to him so he’ll give it back to me.”

Kyōraku waved a dismissive hand at them. “How else am I supposed to coax you off of your sickbed? And speaking of delinquency,” he said attempting to shift their attention when he noticed Kaminari filling Ryuko’s cup with the strong alcohol, “I see you’re contributing as well.”

“He’s feeling better so why not? Besides, you were the one who gave him his first sip of sake, Shunsui Kyōraku.”

“A rite of passage everyone should enjoy.”

She nodded slightly. “And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say your womanizing has rubbed off on him too.”

“Now it’s perfectly natural for a boy his age to be curious about girls.”

“Then perhaps Ryuko would like to tell you how many times he’s been caught peeping,” she replied giving the boy beside her a firm nudge.

“A gentleman never tells,” Ryuko said quickly and only a little bit sheepishly.

“A _gentleman_ wouldn’t be spying on the girls when they’re trying to bathe.”

“Oi, Demon,” Madarame called suddenly from across the table. “I invited you here to get drunk, not listen to your nagging.”

Kaminari eyed him thoughtfully before slowly raising her cup to him in a mocking toast and promptly downed its entire contents. She was quickly joined by a few other men sitting nearby whom she easily identified as lieutenants by their arm badges.

One of them, a fiery red head, threw a heavy arm across his shoulders, giving Ikkaku what she supposed was an encouraging jostle. “It’s about time our baldheaded third seat started making some new friends.”

Madarame scowled at the obnoxious lieutenant and roughly shrugged him off. “As I’ve said more than enough times already, Abarai,” he growled out, “I’m not bald!”

Kaminari gave a derisive snort. “Then what are you?”

“I shave,” he stated curtly.

She pursed her lips together, trying hard to keep from saying whatever remark was sitting on the tip of her tongue and opting instead to swallow it down with another mouthful of sake. Ryuko on the other hand did not share in her censorship.

“Do you shave your coin purse too?”

The table erupted into a roar of guffaws and Ikkaku would have throttled the dark haired child if not for the heavily tattooed lieutenant holding him back when he made to lunge across the table. He was quickly distracted though, when a large jug of sake was shoved into his hands, and it wasn’t long before the group of men burst into a raucous drinking song that had everyone joining in, drunk and off key.

It was an hour or two later when a busty, strawberry-blonde glided in, her boisterous laughter more than enough to drown out the drunkenness around her and immediately garner the men's attention.

“Sorry I'm late boys,” she called out in a bright, cheery voice, “but you know how my captain is, always trying to make me finish paperwork when I've got plans.”

“Don’t you always have plans,” one of the men asked.

“Exactly,” she answered with a practiced pout, “you'd think he'd have learned by now.”

She settled in at the other end of the long table where several bottles of strong sake were already waiting for her along with a large, oversized cup that could have easily doubled as a soup bowl.

“Who’s that,” Ryuko asked, his voice tinted with just a little bit of awe.

“That’s Rangiku Matsumoto,” one of the lieutenants answered, a depressed looking blond whose hair covered part of his face, but not enough to hide his alcohol flushed cheeks. “She’s the Tenth Division’s lieutenant.”

“She’s gorgeous.”

“She’s not interested.” Pitch black hair, scars and a bold “69” tattoo, the lieutenant drained his cup before continuing. “What would a grown woman want with a little kid like you anyway?”

Ryuko answered with narrowed eyes and a stubborn pout, but Kaminari couldn’t help but offer him an encouraging nudge.

“Go on,” she whispered to the small boy, “see if she’ll pour you a drink.” That was all he needed to quickly jump to his feet and bound over to her.

They were out of earshot, but her delighted squeal and body language spoke volumes as she playfully poked and tickled him. And when the two had settled down next to each other and the busty blonde busied herself with pouring them both large cups of sake, Ryuko shot a brazen thumbs up at the two dumbfounded lieutenants at the other side of the table.

And with their mouths agape, the two men cried in unison, “truly he is a hero!”

* * *

“You were holding back,” Kaminari heard a familiar voice accuse from behind.

It was well into the night and while there were still several diehard partiers going strong, most had cleared out or past out. Even Shunsui and Jūshirō had left, though not long ago, leaving her to her own devices. So she had snagged a bottle of sake and slipped away unnoticed, or so she had thought, opting for a quiet moment alone.

“I could say the same thing about you,” she countered as she poured herself another drink. “Are you here for another rematch?”

“I’m here because I’m curious.”

“About?”

Ikkaku didn’t answer, and instead shuffled forward to claim a seat next to her, further intruding on her solitude. They were both quiet for awhile as they sat secluded on the walkway, staring out at the training field where they had fought just a few days earlier, but all the while he was watching her from the corner of his eye.

“Tell me,” he finally said, “do you have bankai?”

She paused at the sudden question, her cup raised halfway to her lips before she slowly lowered it and began to idly trace the rim with her fingertips. “Bankai requires a certain level of trust between wielder and blade, yes? Well I have none for mine,” she said darkly. She sipped at her sake before batting the question back to him. “And you, do you have bankai?”

Ikkaku grabbed the jug of sake from her and took a long pull from it. “There are three vacant captain’s positions available,” he answered evasively. “If I had bankai, wouldn’t I be after a promotion?”

“Probably,” she said thoughtfully, “unless you didn’t want to become a captain.”

He shook his head disbelievingly at how easily she had figured him out and quickly decided on a change of topic. “So where’d that brat of yours run off to?”

“Ryuko? Last I saw of him, he was passed out next to that large breasted lieutenant with a rather brave little hand tucked into her shihakusho.”

Ikkaku let out a bark of laughter at that. “Where’d you find him anyway?”

“I caught him trying to steal my zanpakutō,” Kaminari said with forced neutrality.

“And you just decided to take him in,” he asked suspiciously.

“Something like that,” she answered, not willing to offer up any further details. They fell silent again as they sat in darkness, sipping at their sake as the festivities quietly raged nearby.

“We barely made it out, you know,” Ikkaku finally said. “Yumichika and me.”

“Not many did,” she answered softly.

“Who was it that finally defeated you?”

“Shunsui Kyōraku.”

It sounded so random. A captain who would sooner reach for a jug of sake than his own sword only to go out of his way to fight her…“Why would he do that?”

“I’ve never asked.” At Ikkaku’s incredulous look, she sighed and continued on quietly. “I should be dead. Or at the very least rotting in the Maggot’s Nest. It’s because of Shunsui and Jūshirō that I’m not. _That_ is why I do not ask.”

“Is that why you’re here, to satisfy some debt to them?”

“My business is my own,” she said firmly, but Ikkaku was undeterred.

“Are you going to become a shinigami?”

“No, but they want me to.”

“But you don’t.” It wasn’t a question.

“I think it would be a bad idea,” she confirmed.

He shook his head thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“Oh, and what would you say?”

“That we could use another skilled fighter like yourself,” he answered without hesitation.

“As much as you could use another captain?” Kaminari reached over to reclaim her bottle of sake and added, “you have your reasons, Ikkaku, and I have mine.”

She poured herself another drink, only to end up with the last remaining dregs of alcohol instead. Kaminari frowned slightly in annoyance, but tossed the bottle aside and, with a tired sigh, the cup followed after it. With the sake gone and the conversation exhausted, she stood leave and Ikkaku quickly followed suit.

They walked in silence as they made their way back towards the dying festivities, each lost in their own thoughts when she suddenly stumbled into him. He caught her easily, but they both stilled in each other’s arms. And then in a few quick decisive steps, Ikkaku had her pressed up against the nearest wall as they eagerly began exchanging heated kisses.

He snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his hard body as she slowly slid her own arms around his neck. Ikkaku fisted a strong hand in her long wavy hair, deepening their kiss and swallowing her throaty groan when he pressed a thigh in between hers. His thick arms tightened around her and in a flash of shunpo they were instantly standing in front of the door to his quarters.

They all but fell over the threshold, tearing at each other’s clothing as they made their way to his messy futon. Blame it on the cheap sake or a moment of convenience, either way it didn’t matter and they wasted little time immersing themselves in the heat of their passion.

He sheathed his length within her, instantly falling into fast steady pace as Kaminari wrapped her long legs around him. The sounds of their harsh panting filled the air, but it wasn’t long before he let out groan and stilled above her.

Ikkaku might have been embarrassed at how long he lasted if not for the alcohol thrumming in his gut, but then again this had little to do with mutual satisfaction and more to do with exorcizing demons.

Their breathing evened out as sleep quickly claimed them, at least until the early morning hours when Kaminari stirred next to him. Ikkaku was still fast asleep though, sprawled out on his small futon when she rose from his bed and quietly dressed. She slipped from his room soon after, off to reclaim her young ward, and never once bothering to look back.

* * *

His hands stung when their wooden bokkens clacked together, but he gritted his teeth against the pain. He was still weak from the effects of the poison and, not to mention, slightly hangover from the night before, and though they’d only been sparring for a matter of minutes his breathing was already labored and his brow damp with sweat.

But Ryuko was determined.

Even as his limbs shook with the effort to keep himself upright or to even hold onto the wooden sword in his hands, he persisted. So when Kaminari brought her bokken down again with a loud crack that echoed in the otherwise empty training area, he bit back the whimper and stood his ground on shaky legs.

“Block it,” she yelled, swinging the wooden sword again and her mouth curved into a pleased grin when he did. She nodded her approval and relaxed her stance, guiding him over to the two waiting captains seated on the wooden walkway nearby. They claimed a spot next to them and Kaminari tucked Ryuko to her side, letting him slump against her in exhaustion. The boy’s hand shook slightly when Jūshirō handed him a tea filled cup, but Kaminari quickly reached out to steady his grip. “Unohana will be cross with me if she finds out I let you over do it.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine as long as he gets plenty of rest to make up for it,” Jūshirō offered as he handed her her own cup of the fresh steaming tea.

She nodded in agreement before sipping the hot liquid and letting out a contented sigh. “It’s nice to finally have some decent tea,” she admitted.

“I know how you feel,” Jūshirō said with a soft chuckle. “I’ve drank enough of Fourth Division’s brew to drown myself in it.”

“You sure that wasn’t the point?”

“Actually, I’ve always thought it was their way of encouraging their patients to leave,” he answered with wry smile.

They fell into a companionable silence as they sipped their tea and Ryuko dozed peacefully next to them. But as Kaminari began to refill their cups, Shunsui cleared his throat.

“So,” he began, “have you given any thought to-“

“I’m not staying, Shunsui,” she stated firmly.

“You sure? Our annual fireworks festival is coming up soon.”

“Exactly,” she said pointedly. “You are still planning on serving my sake at your division’s stall again this year, yes?”

“Ah, I nearly forgot.”

“Of course you did,” Kaminari hummed, not entirely convinced. “Then perhaps you would like to confirm your order while we’re on the subject?”

“I have to confirm it,” Shunsui asked in surprise.

“You just said you forgot.”

“ _Nearly_ forgot,” he corrected.

“Nearly forgot,” she amended. “You did want ten barrels, right?”

“You know full well that the Eighth Division supplies the sake for these events,” Shunsui said with a hint of exasperation. “Ten barrels will barely even get us halfway through the night.”

“Fifteen then?”

“I believe my usual order is twenty.”

“Ah, twenty,” she said as she sipped her tea. “I forgot.”

It was Shunsui’s turn to hum skeptically and Jūshirō couldn’t suppress his soft chuckle.

“This year’s festival is supposed to be a rather grand event,” the sickly captain began, “to celebrate the end of the winter war. Yama-jii is even planning on opening the festivities with the kagami biraki ceremony.”

Kaminari tsked disapprovingly. “That’s a waste of perfectly good sake that.”

“Perhaps, but how often does the old man get to indulge in such grandeur,” Shunsui asked.

“Not often,” she admitted.

“And some would even see it as an honor to have their sake used for the ceremony,” Shunsui said, his voice tinted with something akin to pride.

“He wants to use my sake for the ceremony?”

“He does,” Jūshirō confirmed.

Kaminari worried her bottom lip, but eventually gave a soft sigh. “How many casks does he want?”

“Thirteen,” Jūshirō answered. “One to represent each division.”

“I’ll have to snag a few from Shingo’s stash,” she said thoughtfully, “maybe even recruit him into hauling them all up here. His sake won’t be cheap either,” she continued. “And he would much rather prefer to hoard it all and drink it himself. And I know he won’t be happy about having to come to the Seireitei.”

“Then we’ll just have to make sure he’s well compensated for his ‘pain and suffering’,” Jūshirō said with finality, once again refilling their cups.

Though Kaminari nodded in agreement, she was not thrilled about having to convince Shingo to part with any amount of his stock, let alone to get him to come back to the Seireitei with her.

But she’d deal with him when the time came.


End file.
